


you'd almost believe it

by joldiego



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comedian Richie Tozier, Found Family, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated T for Trashmouth, Social Media, YouTube, may eventually include a fix-it sequel, richie makes an uh-oh, the internet is forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joldiego/pseuds/joldiego
Summary: “Marsh! What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His voice is still hoarse with sleep and emerges as more of a croak than anything else.Bev doesn’t entertain him one bit. She simply holds out her phone and asks tiredly, “Richie, what on earth did you do?”Richie peers at the screen. It’s opened to a Buzzfeed article with a title that reads,“Comedian Richie Tozier Posted A Horror Story On His Youtube Channel In The Middle Of The Night, And We’re As Confused As You Are."“Something really stupid, Bev. I did something really fucking stupid.”Richie is terrified that he'll forget what happened in Derry again, that he'll forget Eddie again. So, he takes things into his own hands... and goes viral in the process.





	1. Something Really Fucking Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is what's inspiring me right now so this is what you're getting lmao  
i always love fics that incorporate social media, so im super excited to see where this fic goes  
I'm fairly new to the It fandom, and am cherry-picking what i like from the book and the movies, but if any information is glaringly wrong, don't hesitate to let me know! (politely lol)  
anyways, enjoy !!!

**baby boy** _@mycatson67_  
have yall seen the video richie tozier posted ??? im legit kind of freaked out

**→ mr worldwide** _@istantrashmouth00_  
it’s so different from his stand up and his netflix special, but im so intrigued by the story he’s setting up. and also ?? who knew that the man could fucking ACT ,, had my clown ass tearing up when he was talking about his ‘dead friends’

**→ stream trashmouth on netflix** _@richiemyboy_  
and have you guys heard about his break down at his last show? apparently he freaked out and ran off stage, but now im thinking that it’s all part of some publicity stunt to do with the new vid

**→ the dogfather** _@alexamae435_  
my sister was at that show and said he totally choked onstage and then dipped for like a solid half hour before restarting the show

**Richie Tozier Updates** _@toziernews_  
Richie Tozier dabbles in horror and experimental storytelling, showing off his acting chops with his new youtube video leaving fans confused by his divergence from his normal stand-up act. [link]

**→ bucci bang** _@trekkin86_  
nice try, im pretty sure he’s just straight up having a break down lmao

**Lily Loo** _@lilyloo2_  
guys, m a j o r trigger warning for the richie tozier video. he’s basically telling a horror story and it involves a lot of graphic violence/death, he does a lot to show symptoms of panic attacks and ptsd. it’s a super cool concept and very well executed, but it’s extremely dark and rather difficult to sit through, so please practice self care when watching! #richietozier #whathappensinderry

**→ pretzel king** _@twistycrunchysalty_  
omg thanks for the heads up, i’ll def watch with a friend

**Jamie is Here** _@jamieeliz_  
Guys I’ve been doing some snooping like the obsessive researcher I am, and I think all of these people are real. Bill Denbrough, Beverly Rogan, and Ben Hanscom are obvious, but I found what looks like a very real obituary for Stanley Uris from just a few days ago. Really makes you wonder about what else might be real… #pennywisegate2k16

**→ mr worldwide** _@istantrashmouth00_  
jamie im going to kill you for starting this hashtag i stg

**→ baby boy** _@mycatson67_  
obviously this is a bit more involved than we thought lmao. the obit has to be fake tho

**→ mr worldwide** _@istantrashmouth00_  
i bet it’s gonna turn into this huge meta mystery type thing, ngl im very psyched about the prospect

**→ the dogfather** _@alexamae435_  
unless it’s all real ……. #pennywisegate2k16

**→ mr worldwide** _@istantrashmouth00_  
alexa ,, i will CUT

* * *

**Comedian Richie Tozier Posted A Horror Story On His Youtube Channel In The Middle Of The Night, And We’re As Confused As You Are**  
_By Megan Portillo for BuzzFeed_

Last night, at 1:42 A.M. EST, Richie Tozier baffled and captivated us all.

The comedian, known for his raunchy yet generally well-received Netflix special, _Trashmouth_, posted a twenty-eight minute long [video] to his Youtube channel titled, “what happens in derry” with no warning or explanation.

And let me tell you, it’s a wild ride.

The “Derry” of the title is Tozier’s hometown in Maine, and what ensues over the following twenty-eight minutes of seemingly unedited video is what may be one of the best horror stories of 2016.

Tozier sits down in front of the camera, downs a glass of whiskey, and tells the story as though it were fact; himself, one of the main characters as a member of The Losers Club, a group of friends who lived in Derry as children and would eventually go on to defeat the evil entity that he refers to simply as “It”.

From Tozier’s drunken description, “It” appears to be an ancient supernatural being that emerges from hibernation every 27 years to feed on the people of Derry. “It” takes on the shape of its victim’s greatest fear in order to weaken them before killing them brutally, but Its favorite form tends to be that of a murderous clown named Pennywise.

(Yeah, we know.)

But we’ll let you watch the video for yourself (however if you’re not a fan of horror and would simply like the gist, you can find a detailed summary of the narrative [here]) because despite how campy the story may seem at first glance, the general consensus among viewers is that the video is totally worth watching, even a must-see for horror fanatics, as Tozier crafts a truly terrifying tale. Between his candidly dark humor, raw fear, and the many meta elements slowly weaving together, we’re still on the edge of our seats.

The story incorporates the frankly startling amount of real-life crimes that have occurred in Derry, including the unsolved disappearance of author Bill Denbrough’s younger brother, Georgie. As a horror writer, many believe that Denbrough may have had a hand in the development of the project. Denbrough is one of three other famous members of The Losers Club, including fashion designer Beverly Rogan and architect Ben Hanscom.

Denbrough, Rogan, and Hanscom have yet to respond to our requests for comment, but this is unsurprising as Tozier has been radio silent on social media as well since his supposed breakdown at his New York show, now believed to be a publicity stunt that plays into the story.

Tozier is also facing criticism for his inclusion of Stanley Uris as a member of The Losers Club, an accountant from Georgia who committed suicide upon the resurgence of It. And this isn’t just a part of Tozier’s story, Uris is a real man who really grew up in Derry and really committed suicide this past Thursday, if his [obituary] is believed to be legit. (Although some fans have been theorizing that the obituary is yet another fictitious aspect of the story, and that Uris is either alive and well or simply a creation of Tozier.)

The Losers Club is rounded out by Mike Hanlon, a librarian whose identity has not yet been verified, and Eddie Kaspbrak, who is killed in the final confrontation with It. Kasprak appears to be also a real person as well, according to a LinkedIn page that lists him as a risk consultant, but whether or not he is actually real, or actually dead remains a mystery.

Of course, we would be remiss not to mention the masterful acting done by Tozier. He looks truly wrecked, especially by the death of Kaspbrak, who he describes as “the first and only love of [his] f****** life” but that “the little b**** would probably sock [him] in the stomach for saying something so sappy.”

Elicia Chan, an up and coming comedian and known friend of Tozier, said it best when she tweeted out the video, saying, “Holy shit Trashmouth, didn’t know you had this in you. (DAMN LOOK AT MY MAN CRY ON COMMAND!) Won’t be able to sleep tonight, and I mean that as the highest of compliments. All horror fans should give this vid a watch, this man will shock you.”

The questions still remain as to what of the story true to life and what is fabricated, but one thing’s for certain: Richie Tozier has everyone watching. ●

**[More on Richie Tozier]**

**[More from Megan Portillo]**

* * *

**bandboy007**

> like ,, not to go feral or anything ,, but im fully going feral over The Richie Tozier Vid. ive always been a fan of his comedy and i think his netflix special is a fucking riot, but im a huge horror nerd so this is right up my ally. idk if he wrote the script, or if he’s collaborating with someone else, but there are s o m a n y little things to pull a part about this narrative (that i think i’ll discuss in a different post once i gather my thoughts)  
but just to put my first impressions out into the world, i just wanna say HOT DAMN who knew he was such a good actor ?? like this was insane to watch, there’s just so much raw pain and emotion, and it all comes across even tho it seems like it’s filmed on shitty a iphone camera  
And just ??? the eery lack of info about it all ?? like him supposedly choking on stage and disappearing off social media and then dropping this video in the middle of the night with no warning whatsoever ?? gives off such a Cursed and Dramatique Energy that i am Here for

**trashm0uth-t0zier**

> like if i didn’t know better, i’d swear he was actually having a breakdown and that all of this is real lmao can u imagine

* * *

Richie’s mouth tastes like ass when he wakes up to an incessant buzzing.

He groans and smacks his lips as he sits up, surveying his surroundings.

He’s slumped over the desk of his dingy hotel room, eyes lined with crust and a headache pounding. The thoroughly raided mini-bar confirms what he was already suspecting. _Hungover as fuck._

The events of the past few days all come rushing back to him at once. An endless loop of _EddieStanDeadItEddieStanDeadEddieEddieEddie._ And to be honest, the memories ache worse than the hangover. He has a vague recollection of being lead back to the hotel by the remaining Losers, bone-tired and ridden with grief, but once he arrives back in his room, his brain goes fuzzy. He suspects that the alcohol has something to do with that.

_Ugh._

He finally determines the source of the buzzing, his cell phone vibrating against his foot, so he scoops it up clumsily, nearly falling from his chair in the process.

_12 missed calls from Benitez_

_Okay, yikes._ Mali Benitez was Richie’s long-suffering manager. She took absolutely none of Richie’s shit and had thus become a close friend over the years. (Richie supposes that he has a thing for pint-sized spitfires who won’t hesitate to slap him upside the head.) So, he wouldn’t have been surprised to have a few calls from her after his Derry-induced panic attack and subsequent disappearing act, but as he reads her texts, his stomach begins to fill with lead.

_7:32 A.M._

**Benitez:** Tozier what the fuck

**Benitez:** what the hell is this

**Benitez:** call me or I swear to fucking god I’ll burn all your dumb ass hawaiian shirts

**Benitez:** you could have at least run this by me, you never even said you were interested in horror, let alone all this meta shit

_8:02 A.M._

**Benitez:** you NEED to call me, this is already blowing up

**Benitez:** and I’m legit kind of concerned so please call as soon as you can

_8:29 A.M._

**Benitez:** what the fuck is up with all the real fucking dead people in this story, bc im pretty sure you didn’t make this all up you dumb fuck

**Benitez:** can you at least call your therapist

_9:02 A.M._

**Benitez:** there’s already a fucking buzzfeed article im gonna kill you tozier

**Benitez:** please call, im actually so worried you fuck

_Okay, well that can’t be fucking good._

He finally clocks the open laptop on the desk in front of him, so he taps the spacebar and the screen wakes up. It’s opened to his YouTube page.

Richie’s YouTube page isn’t anything remarkable, it has a few old stand-up clips and some promos for his Netflix special. But there are a few things out of place on the page in front of him.

First of all, his subscriber count has skyrocketed. He’s never really kept track of stuff like that, but he knows for a fact that nowhere near nine hundred thousand people were interested in a few clips of him telling questionable dick jokes as a greasy looking twenty-five-year-old.

The second thing out of place makes his heart jump into his throat.

The most recent video is one that he doesn’t recognize. It’s titled “what happens in derry” and the thumbnail is an image of his own face staring sullenly into the camera. It was uploaded seven hours ago and has already amassed 2.5 million views. It’s twenty-eight minutes long.

Richie thinks he might barf.

With a trembling hand, he clicks on the video.

_Someone fumbles with the camera as it switches on before setting it down and stepping into the frame. Behind the disheveled looking man is a rundown hotel room, a suitcase lying half-packed on the bed. The man sits down at the table, his exhaustion visible in the slump of his shoulders and pallor of his skin. He’s covered in a fine layer of grime and dirt, a few streaks on his face where he’s clearly tried to wipe it away. His eyes are rimmed with red and glazed over with the un-focused sheen of someone three sheets to the wind. He takes a deep breath and his resignation is palpable._

_“It’s important that I record this video. I don’t fucking want to. I never want to think about this godforsaken town again, but I’m terrified that if I don’t, I’ll forget everything as soon as I leave. And as much as I want to forget, I owe it to some people to remember."_

_The man swallows and his graze drops downward. He wipes at one of his eyes before grabbing a glass half-filled with amber liquid from slightly out of frame, downing it with a grimace. He braces himself and looks directly into the camera._

_“My name is Richie Tozier, and I grew up in Derry, Maine. It’s a fucked-up shithole of a place. And a monster lives here. Or_ lived _here, me and my friends just fucking killed It. And that’s_ It _with a capital fucking ‘I’. We beat it once before, twenty-seven years ago, when we were just a bunch of snot-nosed kids. And we promised that if It ever came back, we would too. Made a blood-pact and everything, it was really gross.”_

_The man’s face crumples slightly. His gaze drops again, and someone watching closely enough would notice his lip tremble. When he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion._

_“It fucking came back. And we did it, we killed It, but now two of us are dead.”_

_His voice breaks and he presses his face into his hands. After a moment he looks back up, significantly more weary than before. But his voice is strong._

_“Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. You’d better strap the fuck in because this is a tragedy twenty-seven years in the making.”_

Richie doesn’t hear what Drunk Video Richie says next because he’s too busy jumping out of his skin when someone pounds on his door. He quickly fumbles to pause the video and nearly trips in his haste to go open it. He notices that his hands are still shaking as he leans forward to check the peephole.

It’s Bev. She doesn’t look happy.

Richie winces and opens the door.

“Marsh! What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His voice is still hoarse with sleep and emerges as more of a croak than anything else.

Bev doesn’t entertain him one bit. She simply holds out her phone and asks tiredly, “Richie, what on earth did you do?”

Richie peers at the screen. It’s opened to a Buzzfeed article with a title that reads, _“Comedian Richie Tozier Posted A Horror Story On His Youtube Channel In The Middle Of The Night, And We’re As Confused As You Are.”_

“Something really stupid, Bev. I did something really fucking stupid.”


	2. Open Up, Richie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“If it helps at all, I was absolutely shitfaced and have zero recollection of what was clearly some very poor decision making on my part.”_
> 
> _She squints slightly, still staring into space. “I truly can’t decide if that helps or not. But I think it’s pretty safe to say that this is maybe the biggest _beep-beep_ of all time.”_
> 
> Tumblr is already shitposting about Pennywise and Richie faces his biggest fear: taking himself seriously.

After being strong-armed into the shower by Beverly once she realized he was still coated in sewer grime and quarry-water, Richie sits on the bed in a fresh pair of pajamas, feeling worlds better.

Not to say that he feels good. In fact, he’s fairly certain that he’s having heart palpitations, but at least he’s doing so in flannel rather than an increasingly stiff pair of jeans.

Bev is seated not at, but _on_ the desk in front of him, criss-cross applesauce and deep in thought. He can’t help but feel as if he’s in the principal’s office.

“If it helps at all, I was absolutely shitfaced and have zero recollection of what was clearly some very poor decision making on my part.”

She squints slightly, still staring into space. “I truly can’t decide if that helps or not. But I think it’s pretty safe to say that this is maybe the biggest _beep-beep_ of all time.”

That startles a choked-off laugh out of him. “Just maybe, Bev. That’s it for me then, guess I’ve peaked. Forty’s not a bad age for it.”

“So,” She finally looks him in the eye, “Any idea what we’re gonna do?”

Richie sighs, a tiny bit relieved by her use of the word _we._ “I’m wracking my brain, but I’ve got nothing right now. I don’t even know what I’m gonna tell my manager, or even what I _can_ tell her without getting myself institutionalized. My plan right now is hovering somewhere between witness protection and walking into the ocean.”

Bev simply hums in response, biting her lip as she stares off into the middle distance once more, and Richie knows that she’s weighing their options. He's thankful that it was Bev who found the video first, always one of the most level-headed of the Losers. 

But then he can’t help but think about how fucking angry Eddie would have been at him, and he’s a little less thankful. He loves Beverly to death, but right now he would give anything for Eddie to appear and call him an _absolutely crackbrained fucking cretin_ or whatever creative insult Eddie’s rage would summon. He’d get all up in Richie’s face, flushed and spitting and Richie would make some joke that wasn’t really a joke about saving it for the bedroom and Eddie only would have gotten angrier.

And before Richie knows it, between the growing ache of grief in his chest and the way his every nerve pulses with a chant of _you fucked up! you fucked up! you fucked up!_, his face is getting hot and there are tears pooling in his eyes, and _jesus,_ he’s so not in the mood to break down in front of Bev for the second time in as many days.

So he stares intently at the floor, clenching his jaw and blinking rapidly in the hopes that he can pull himself together before Bev notices.

Of course, he should know better than to underestimate Beverly Marsh.

She softly goes, “Oh,” and slips gracefully off of the desk to kneel next to him on the bed. She pulls him in, resting her cheek against the crown of his head when he ducks into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around him, running a hand through his hair as he does his best to cry silently.

Richie hated everything about crying. He hated the feeling of not being able to pull enough air into his lungs, gasping and choking like a fish out of water. He hated the dull ache that would reside behind his brow for hours afterward. He hated that he was an ugly crier, it always made his face go red and blotchy, swelled his already squinted eyes.

He’s glad that Beverly lets him hide his face in her sweater.

When his muffled sobs peter out to small sniffles, Richie can feel Beverly tense slightly. He can practically hear the cogs turning in her head as she considers whatever it is she’s having trouble saying, so he sits up, wiping at his face and looking at her expectantly.

She picks at a loose thread on the outer seam of her jeans.

“I couldn’t watch the video all the way through, and I don’t know if you remember exactly what you said, but I read that article. You probably should too, it says that–Well, uh,” She sighs and meets his gaze purposefully, “In the article, it says that you said that you were in love with him.”

There’s no need to clarify who ‘him’ is. Richie knows.

And _jesus fucking christ_, Richie’s never drinking again. But at the same time, he’s never needed a drink as badly as he does at this very moment.

Motherfucking, fuck.

“Welp, you caught me, Bev. I’m a big ‘ol fucking queer with a big fat gay crush on dear, dead Eddie. It’s–_fuck!”_

Bev punches him in the arm.

“Stop that. The earth won’t stop spinning if you take your emotions seriously for a second.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Richie–”

“You know, I think that you seriously injured my–”

“You’re allowed to grieve him, Richie.” She says so gently, but the words still feel as if they’ve struck him in the chest. An ice pick that sinks all the way through to his spine. “You’re allowed to grieve for what never was. And you’re allowed to grieve for your privacy right now because no matter what I can see you thinking, this isn’t your fault.”

Richie zeroes in on what’s easy right now. Eddie isn’t easy, but blaming himself is a groove he can _sure_ get into. “Really? Because if I’m keeping score correctly, it seems like I got wasted and blabbed our supernatural trauma on YouTube where it’s gone viral and will certainly follow us for the rest of our lives, if not guarantee us a Groupon to the nearest loony-bin. So, all signs seem to be indicating that this is squarely my fault.”

Bev sighs at him. It’s fairly obvious that she’s not going to get Richie to talk about Eddie in any meaningful capacity right now, not while they have the video hanging over their heads.

“I don’t care, trashmouth. I don’t blame you and you can’t make me.”

Richie scowls halfheartedly at her. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get there.”

“_Ugh,_ you’re so emotionally constipated. Anyway, we need to–”

_Bang, bang, bang._

“_Tozier!_ W-What in the _hell_ is this, man?”

Bev and Richie look to each other with equally wide eyes.

“Well, I guess Bill’s seen it.”

“Wow! Nothing gets past you, Marsh.”

“I’m gonna forgive the fact that you’re lashing out because we’re under a lot of stress right now.”

_Bang, bang._

”Open up, Richie!”

* * *

**cashew-bless-you**

> YALL. I’m straight up freaked by some of the research I’ve done on the Richie Tozier Video.
> 
> Richie claims that when people leave Derry, they forget everything about it. The strange disappearances, their encounters with the monster, even the people that they knew. (This is basically his reason for making the video in the first place. He’d gladly forget It, but is terrified of forgetting Eddie and Stan.) And that this ‘forgetting’ is a defense mechanism used by It to keep people from realizing that there’s a pattern to the disappearances and then seeking to kill It.
> 
> So, I’ve basically been doing all the research I can on Derry. There’s almost nothing online, but since I’m lucky enough to be a resident of a nearby county in Maine, I took a trip down to the local archives to see what physical records I could find (newspaper clippings were where I had the best luck), and the timeline fucking tracks. Every twenty-seven years like clockwork, a whole crop of people go missing. Either Richie’s reach when it comes to planting “real life” evidence is insane, or like… I don’t even want to consider the alternative.
> 
> Secondly, I’ve been trying to look into the members of the Losers Club, especially since we’re not sure if Eddie, Stan and Mike are even real. I hit the jackpot with an interview of Bill Denbrough that I found on vimeo. About twenty minutes in, the interviewer asks him about his childhood and how growing up in such a small town may have influenced his writing, and his eye just fucking _glaze over._ He completely checks out and mutters something about not remembering much of his childhood, but that _yeah, sure, it probably did._ The interviewer likely noticed that the question flipped some switch, because they quickly change the subject, and Bill goes right back to normal, like snapping out of a trance.
> 
> And this interview is from _five fucking years ago._ Richie Tozier was barely breaking into the stand-up scene five years ago.
> 
> Either they’ve been planning this for _years_ or like, I hate to say it, but perhaps #pennywisegate2k16. Stay safe out there, y’all.

**spooky-is-stored-in-the-me**

> FFFFFFF Cat I simply CANNOT deal. pennywise is gonna come after me because i Believe and it’s gonna be all Your Fault

**b00fb00f**

> no he’s not !! the losers club killed him remember ?? you good bby

**inky-pen**

> I think you guys are forgetting the Bill Denbrough’s little brother disappeared when Bill was thirteen. The question probably just made him think about his brother.
> 
> I stg you guys are gonna pull something w how much you’re reaching to prove that this Richie Tozier thing is real. Enjoy it for what it is, which is just a really good story.

**maybe-were-all-baby**

> me, taking a road trip to derry, maine in the middle of the night, during a full moon in the year 2043: o h n o ! ! ! ! it sure would be a shame if something were to ! h a p p e n ! to me ! ! ! if a certain clown were to ! s t e a l ! me away from all my responsibilities ! ! ! for the low low price of feasting on my supple flesh :3c uwu

**trashm0uth-t0zier**

> hi, i can’t believe that i was forced to read this with my eyes. it’s been a good 17 years with these eyes, but i think it’s finally time to get rid of them. they’ve seen it all now. im gonna scoop them out w a melon baller. (and of course, bc i had to read this, you do too @bandboy007)

**bandboy007**

> first of all, fuck you jo. second, i can’t believe that you guys have already fcuking ruined this. im almost impressed by the speed with which you’ve decided that you will not only fuck this ancient evil clown, but that you must inform as many people as possible that you intend to fuck this ancient evil clown.

* * *

**baby boy** _@mycatson67_  
all yall already out here w your shitposts lusting after pennywise ,, im bout to CUT

**→ pretzel king** _@twistycrunchysalty_  
w ,,, w ,w with their what

**→ baby boy** _@mycatson67_  
oh you poor babe, don’t look. save yourself.

**Lily Loo** _@lilyloo2_  
Literally anyone who knows me can attest, I’m usually not one for conspiracy junk, but I’m more invested in all of the evidence piling up around the Richie Tozier Video than I’ve been in anything else in a very long time. #whathappensinderry #richietozier

**→ Jamie is Here** _@jamieeliz_  
welcome to the club bay bee !!! #pennywisegate2k16

* * *

Bev squeezes Richie’s hand and then goes to open the door. Richie would follow, but his panic has returned in full force and he thinks that if he were to stand up, his legs would turn to jelly and he’d fall flat on his face.

Maybe he’d hit his head so hard that it would knock him out. That might be nice, actually.

“T-Trashmouth, you’d better–Bev!”

The speed with which all anger vanishes from Bill’s face the second that Beverly opens the door makes Richie snort. _Some things never change._

Behind Bill is Mike and Ben; Mike is shifting his weight nervously, the only one of them who doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed. Ben is rumpled and blinking sleepily, clearly just dragged from his own hotel room down the hall. Bill’s hair is sticking up rather comically, and Richie can’t be certain if it's due to frantically running his hands through it in the chaos that Richie's caused them or simply a fine case of bedhead.

“Care to come in and behave like civilized adults?” Bev opens the door wider and gestures them inside. They trail in, and Bill levels Richie with a look that already has his heart rate skyrocketing.

“So, Richie, any idea why I woke up to a f…f-frantic call from my agent asking if I had anything to do with some viral video about Derry?”

Ben presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, practically still asleep, muttering, “Literally, what the fuck is going on?” No one answers him.

“Hm, you know, Billy? I’m not actually sure. It might have something to do with the fact that last night, I got blackout drunk, recorded a video documenting our life-long nightmare for, like, posterity or whatever, and posted it on my public YouTube page. And some yuppie, fucking Buzzfeed writer immediately wrote an article putting me on blast, so now our childhood trauma has over two million views. It might have something to do with that, but you’ll have to give your agent a call back to clarify, you can never really know for sure, they might be talking about Derry, Minnesota. There’s another Richie Tozier who lives there and he’s just as _fucking stupid_ as I am.”

Richie wants to be a little shit right now. He wants to fight with Bill, fighting with Bill is something he knows how to do. He’s thirteen again and pushing all the right buttons until Bill cracks and punches him in the face. _(He’s thirteen again and fighting with Bill because he needs to do something other than worry about Eddie with his arm at a sickening angle, locked inside his mother’s car.)_

But Richie’s voice is close to breaking. Everyone in the room can hear the tremor in his words, see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Richie would rather someone break his nose than continue to let him sit here like an exposed nerve.

Mike’s eyes are wide and sad. Beverly is biting her lip, and Ben just looks shocked. Perhaps he’s finally woken up and cottoned on to the situation, or maybe he’s just never seen Richie so upset.

(Of course, that’s not true, because yesterday Ben held a screaming Richie back from running into a collapsing building.)

Richie has to shut his eyes when Bill’s furrowed brow starts toeing the line of concern rather than fury. He can’t keep looking at them looking at him.

_The earth won’t stop spinning if you take your emotions seriously for a second._

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” Richie says to his toes. “I know that I just made life really difficult for us. Especially when everything was just about to be better.”

His toes don’t say anything back. For a moment, all Richie can focus on is the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

But then, the bed dips as someone sits down to the left of him. To the right of him, as well. The rickety desk chair scrapes against the floor and creaks as someone settles into it. Mike kneels in front of Richie, meeting his eye with that sure and steady gaze of his.

“We’re gonna figure this out, Richie. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for all your sweet comments, im so glad that you guys are as excited about this concept as i am!! reading them is literally the highlight of my day. it got me so motivated, that i finished up this chapter instead of working on my comm paper lmao whoops
> 
> thank you for reading lovelies!


	3. The Puppy Pile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mike looks up, his face sheepish, “I watched it.” His meets Richie’s eyes guiltily, and _god damn it,_ Richie knows exactly what he’s thinking of. _Who_ he’s thinking of._
> 
> _Ben, forever the optimist, doesn’t pick up on Richie’s internal crisis over the imminent possibility that he’ll need to talk about his feelings for, like, the third time in one day, and says, “Okay, that’s good. It’s better that at least one of us knows what we’re dealing with.”_
> 
> More talking, more crying, and maybe a semblance of a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am literally blown away by all the sweet comments that you guys have left  
i've lowkey been having a shitty time at school, and reading them always makes me smile  
enjoy this chapter, my loves!

[Image 1: A looping gif of Richie Tozier, struggling to speak as tears stream down his face. At the bottom of the image is a yellow caption that reads, “He was so fucking happy, too. I think he was proud that he’d been, like, brave, or whatever. I had just told him that he was braver than he thought.”]

[Image 2: A looping gif of Richie Tozier, continuing on from the previous. He finishes speaking and then claps a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and trembling as he sobs. At the bottom of the image is a yellow caption that reads, “Fuck. I think I’d rather that he was a coward.”]  


** toaster-coaster **

> _”I was a closeted queer kid living in Bumfuck, Nowhere and he was the first and only love of my fucking life.”_
> 
> Or, Richie Tozier absolutely _murdering_ me with this tragic gay love story.

**sarcasticker**

> hey op this gifset broke into my house in the middle of the night and punched me in the face

**spooky-is-stored-in-the-me**

> actually that was pennywise

****

**trashm0uth-t0zier**

> honestly most unrealistic thing about the richie tozier vid… is having six friends

**b00f-b00f**

> myth fucking busted ,, eat shit richard

**voteforsasuke**

> nice try op!! he only has four friends now actually

**trashm0uth-t0zier**

> turn on your location i just wanna talk

[Video: The camera is shaky and the audio is muffled, obviously taken by someone trying not to be caught with their phone out. The video shows a stage from a distance, where Richie Tozier is speaking into a microphone. He’s saying something (the audio is inaudible) but trails off, mouth hanging open dumbly. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. His breathing clearly speeds up and his shoulders heave as he fumbles the microphone back onto its stand. He walks purposefully offstage, swiping a hand over his face.]

** tastefulfakesouls **

> here’s the highly requested video of richie tozier’s breakdown at his last show before posting what happens in derry! sorry for the shitty quality lmao, but i figured that people would want to see it

**cashew-bless-you**

> YO !!!!!! I am literally so beyond ecstatic that somebody has footage of this.

**maybe-were-all-baby**

> imagine having the balls to fuck up your own show just to commit to a bit

**bandboy007**

> [Image: A still image of a woman with largely coiffed hair and heavy makeup. Her mouth is open, mid-sentence. At the bottom of the image is text that reads, “He has the range, darling!”]

* * *

“So, have any of you watched the video all the way through?” They’re spread out on the hotel bed. However, five adults on one queen-sized mattress happens to be a bit of a tight squeeze, so it’s evolved into something closely resembling a puppy pile. Ben and Bill are slumped side by side against the headboard, Ben with his legs stretched out to tangle his feet with Beverly’s, who sits opposite him. Mike sits cross-legged towards the middle of the mattress with Richie’s laptop open in front of him as he browses the impressive amount of damage that Richie’s managed to incur in such a short time. Richie is lying at the foot of the bed with his feet pressed against Mike’s shins and his head in Beverly’s lap as she cards her fingers through his hair. “Because I could only get through the first minute or two, and I know that Richie doesn’t really remember what he said. No offense, Richie.”

“Them’s just the facts, Bev.” He tilts his head back to give her a wry smile.

Mike looks up, his face sheepish, “I watched it.” He meets Richie’s eyes guiltily, and _god damn it,_ Richie knows exactly what he’s thinking of. _Who_ he’s thinking of.

Ben, forever the optimist, doesn’t pick up on Richie’s internal crisis over the imminent possibility that he’ll need to talk about his feelings for, like, the third time in one day, and says, “Okay, that’s good. It’s better that at least one of us knows what we’re dealing with.”

“So, what exactly is it we’re dealing with?” Bill interjects. “J...Just how bad does it look for us?”

Mike winces. “It’s not… Ideal. Richie has a surprisingly detailed memory, even blackout drunk.”

Richie puts on the voice of an aged Hollywood starlet, “It’s a gift and a curse, what can I say?”

“Pretty much everything is in there,” Mike continues, “When we fought It in ‘89, everything from this past weekend, too.”

“Well, everyone just thinks that it’s fake, right? That it’s just a story?” Bev lifts her hands to gesture excitedly and Richie silently laments the loss of his head scritches. “What if we just commit to that? Say that you’re branching out of stand-up, and this is just some experimental foray into horror that you got your childhood friends involved in.”

“See, that’s what I would think, too. But we still have a big problem.” Mike is always the one with a plan, but the grim look on his face doesn’t give Richie a lot of hope.

“Which is...?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Mainly that Eddie and Bowers are actually dead, and we don’t have any reasonable explanation as to how that happened. Stan is easier to explain, but the fact that we have three actual deaths connected to this video doesn’t bode well for us.”

“Eddie was married,” Ben says quietly. Richie feels as if someone poured ice water down the back of his shirt. _Shit. He was married, wasn’t he? To a woman and everything._ “I’m pretty sure her name is Myra. I’ve been thinking, someone’s gonna have to tell her what happened. Or at least that something happened, especially now.”

“I’ll do it.” The words are out of Richie’s mouth before he even processes the thought. Everyone’s reactions are instantaneous.

Ben’s tactful, ”_Oh!_ Well, I don’t know if–”

Mike’s inquisitive hum.

Beverly’s concerned, “Honey, you don’t have to–”

Bill’s rather blunt, “That’s not a good idea, Rich.”

“I need to do this!” Richie silences them, sitting up and pressing his face into his hands.

By all means, Richie should be jealous, but something about the idea of commiserating with Eddie’s wife is so incredibly tempting to him. In his mind’s eye, he pictures a woman with soft blonde hair and wide blue eyes. She wears sundresses and cardigans and sensible shoes, and she always smells of the same floral soap. She’s sickeningly sweet to balance out Eddie’s hot head, the sort of person who people say has a _kind soul_ or whatever. She’s a dentist or a preschool teacher. She’s clean and organized, preps their meals for the week and leaves cute little notes in the boxed lunches that she sends along to work with Eddie every day. She’s perfect for him; She’s Richie’s polar opposite in every possible way.

But they’ve both lost Eddie, and Richie thinks that connects them somehow.

He finally drops his hands, looking to the concerned faces of his friends.

“Look, Bev and Mike already know, so I just want it out in the open before we continue with all this _crap.”_

Beverly says, “Richie, you really don’t have to,” at the same time that Bill furrows his brow and asks, “Know what?”

It’s not like Richie isn’t out. He lives in L.A. for fuck’s sake, but he’s never really had to _come out_ to someone he was close to before. His bisexuality has always just been something that everyone knew about, he wasn’t exactly subtle. Hell, he’s fairly certain it’s on his Wikipedia page. But something about being back in Derry has stirred up a shame deep in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in years, shaking loose the vertigo that overtook him when Bowers spat _that word_ at him in the arcade.

Richie takes a deep breath, feeling pale and sick as he makes another confession to his toes.

“I’m bisexual, and I’ve totally been in love with Eddie since we were kids. Head over heels, fucking _gone_ on him. Apparently, I talk about it in the video, so now it’s out in the world and there’s nothing I can do about it. You guys were probably going to find out soon anyway, but I’d rather you heard it from me than some fourteen-year-old’s shitty twitter.”

At this rate, Richie’s fairly certain that he should never have to talk about his feelings ever again. He’ll have to fire his therapist. _Sorry, Jolie, I’ve run dry. Absolutely no feelings left, I’ve reached my quota for this lifetime._

Beverly takes Richie’s hand and squeezes it comfortingly, and when he finally has the courage to look up, neither Ben nor Bill look quite _surprised._ Bill looks absolutely distraught, sadder than Richie’s ever seen him, his eyes wide and glassy. And Ben–

Ben is _fucking crying._ Full on, sniffling with tears streaming down his face.

He wipes pathetically at his cheeks, “Fucking sorry, man. I know this isn’t about me. _Jesus.”_

“Benjamin, Benny, my boy,” Richie curses internally when his own voice is thick with emotion. _He’s had enough fucking crying for one day, jesus christ._ He scooches up to worm his way between Ben and Bill, throwing his arms over their shoulders and tugging them in close. “We all lost him, it’s not like you’re not allowed to be sad just because you didn’t want to bone him.”

“Beep-beep, fuckhead,” Bill says hoarsely, but hugs Richie back all the same.

If anyone can relate to the overwhelmingly bittersweet feeling of being reintroduced to an unattainable childhood crush, it’s Ben and Bill.

_Speaking of,_ Beverly shifts over after Richie, planting herself on Ben’s lap and wrapping her arms around him, resting her legs across Richie and Bill, “Look at all my boys, expressing their emotions like mature adults.”

Her words poke fun, but they can feel the sincerity that she intends.

Mike pats Richie’s ankle and gives him a sad smile, “I’ll work on finding Myra’s number for you, Richie.”

After an appropriate amount of crying and cuddling, Bill clears his throat purposefully, “Even though it’ll be rough, I feel like our best bet is committing to the story. Basically acting as if we’re pretending that it’s real. It’ll f...f-fucking suck, but I think people will be more inclined to assume that any real-looking news of the deaths is just some publicity stunt. Like the Blair Witch Project, they put up missing posters for the characters and everyone thought it was real.”

“Isn’t that kind of counterintuitive?” Ben cranes his neck around Richie to peer at Bill with a raised brow, “Convincing people that it’s real to make them think it’s not?”

“Well, that’s just it. The more we play it up, the more people will think that it’s fake. Like how people don’t really _believe_ wack-job, conspiracy theorists, they just find them entertaining.”

Richie sighs, “So, what I’m hearing is that we’ll be reliving this repeatedly until it all blows over.”

“I did say that it would fucking suck.”

Ugh. He did say that.

“I think that we should do our best to tell Myra and Patty what really happened,” Beverly chimes in, “They might not believe us, but the least they deserve is that we try to explain.”

Mike nods, “Agreed. We should do that before we go public with anything else.”

Richie groans melodramatically and tilts his head towards the ceiling, “I know that this is literally all my fault, but I still can’t believe that we’re doing this. Pennywise is gonna be a fucking meme, I just know it.”

* * *

** bandboy007 **

> so ,,,,, who’s about to take a road trip with me to derry, maine to do some investigating and take some spooky instagram pictures ??

**trashm0uth-t0zier**

> wait ellie are you actually serious. i need to know right now if youre actually being serious

**bandboy007**

> i mean, i may have jokingly mentioned the idea to my brother, and he may have said that he’d be totally down to drive us, so like ,,, im as serious about it as you are

**trashm0uth-t0zier**

> bitch we bout to fuckin goooooo #pennywisegate2k16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry but it seems like the only thing im capable of writing about it ch 2 is cuddling and crying lmaoo
> 
> but don't worry! we'll be getting into more plot and shenanigans soon!
> 
> also! would guys rather that i finish this fic out as canon-compliant and follow it up a fix-it sequel, or that i just make this fic a fix-it in the first place?
> 
> im curious, so please let me know!


	4. Telephone Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In a nearby room, Beverly is making a similar call to Patricia Uris, with one overt difference that is only just occurring to Richie._
> 
> _He’s about to tell a woman he’s never met that the man she loves is dead._
> 
> _Richie thinks he’d rather eat glass, but he needs to do this._
> 
> _He presses the call button before he can talk himself out of it._
> 
> It's telephone hour at the Derry Townhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao ! it's been months ! what a big fat whoopsie daisy on my part  
thank you for your patience !
> 
> EDIT: ah! I totally blanked on including warnings ! I'm so sorry!
> 
> warning in this chapter for homophobic language, panic attacks, and discussion of death
> 
> **[April 22th, 2020 Update: Hello all! If you're reading this for the first time or if you're coming back to it, you've probably noticed that I haven't updated it in a while. It's not impossible that I'll come back and finish it, but I have lost my momentum.**
> 
> **This is my second shot at writing this disclaimer. Basically I find Myra's character incredibly difficult to write. IT is already a story without much representation of women, and it rubs me the wrong way that two fat women are written as manipulative abusers.**
> 
> **At the time that I wrote this chapter, I hadn't given that much thought. But I think that it's important to think critically about the archetypes that are often portrayed as villains. I find it difficult to reconcile the goal to depict Eddie's emotional trauma accurately (as it's so important to his character) with the idea that I may be perpetuating the demonization of fat women.**
> 
> **TLDR: I feel as though Myra's character is handled poorly in this chapter and didn't want it to go unsaid that IT plays into some harmful stereotypes concerning fat women, but I also didn't feel comfortable deleting this chapter and pretending that I had never written it.]**

Richie breathes deeply, bouncing on the balls of his feet, too antsy to sit down. His cell phone is clutched in one clammy hand, Myra Kaspbrak’s contact information glaring up at him from the screen. Bill watches patiently from his seat on the bed, ready to coach him through the call.

Richie had been reluctant to include an audience, at first, but then he recalled his innate tendency to end up with his foot in his mouth, and begrudgingly agreed that it was probably for the best.

In a nearby room, Beverly is making a similar call to Patricia Uris, with one overt difference that is only just occurring to Richie.

He’s about to tell a woman he’s never met that the man she loves is dead.

Richie thinks he’d rather eat glass, but he needs to do this.

He presses the call button before he can talk himself out of it.

The phone rings quietly in his ear, until a shrill voice barks, _"Hello?!”_ making him start in surprise.

“Hi, um–” Richie clears his throat awkwardly, “I’m looking for Myra Kaspbrak? I’m–”

_“And who is this?”_ There’s something accusatory in her tone that makes Richie’s stomach twist.

“My name’s Richie, and I’m– I was– Uh, I grew up with your husband, Eddie. We were best friends when we were kids.”

_“You’re Richie?”_ She says his name as if it’s absolutely acidic. 

“Uh, yeah,” Richie furrows his brow, glancing at Bill. _God, he hopes she hasn’t seen the video._ “Did Eddie mention me?”

Myra continues on as if he hasn’t spoken. _“You make me_ sick._ Is Eddie there with you? Is he listening? I’m half-convinced that you’re all on drugs. Tell him not to bother coming home until he comes to his senses.”_

Richie shoots Bill a panicked look, who straightens up in alarm at the tinny tirade pouring from the phone.

“Woah, woah! Mrs. K, what are you talking about?”

She sniffs and huffs angrily. “Eddie called me yesterday afternoon and asked for a divorce_ over the _phone,_ of all godforsaken things. I understand that he’s confused, and I understand that he’s_ sick, _but I simply won’t put up with this sort of treatment, not after everything I’ve done for him.”_

Richie’s blood runs fucking frozen, ice-cold fury coursing through his veins, mixed in with something like shock. Whatever look he has on his face makes Bill’s eyes go wide. Myra could mean a thousand things by that, but deep down, Richie knows that she doesn’t. 

“What do you mean he’s sick?” Richie asks flatly. Dangerously.

_Go ahead. You’ve had the privilege of knowing Eddie. Marrying Eddie. Go ahead and tell Richie what exactly the fuck you think is_ wrong _with Eddie. Eddie who fits Richie like a puzzle piece. Eddie who’s dead and gone. Go ahead and let Richie know that you haven’t spent every goddamn second doing anything less than_ cherishing _Eddie Fucking Kaspbrak._

And Myra delivers.

_"It’s a sickness, what you two have, you’ve infected him. I can’t help him anymore if he’s decided he won’t do anything to help himself. I simply won’t do it. I hope you’re happy with yourselves.”_ And right before she hangs up, Richie hears her spit, _faggot,_ under her breath. The word drones in his ear alongside the dial tone, filling his head with a feeling like buzzing bees. Like static. It reminds him of the way his ears rang after the giant red balloon exploded down in the cistern.

And she still doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that Eddie isn’t sick anymore because you can’t be sick if you’re dead.

_It’s a sickness. What the two of you have. What the_ two of you _have. It’s a sickness._ The two of you. God, Richie would love to be a two of something. Of anything.

Richie’s head is spinning. There’s a sparked match somewhere in the center of his chest that glows with something like hope, but it’s quickly doused by a much worse feeling. It doesn’t matter now what either of them felt. It doesn’t matter because they never did anything about it, and now they never will.

_You’ve infected him._

_He’s thirteen and Mrs. Kaspbrak answers the door to shoo him away. When he loiters a moment too long, she curls her lip in disgust as she snarls, “I see right through you, Richard. I won’t have you infecting my Eddie with your sickness.”_

Richie doesn’t realize that he’s listing to one side until Bill is in front of him, grasping his shoulders and guiding him to sit down on the floor before he falls over. Richie braces his back against the old wooden dresser and Bill sits cross-legged in front of him, resting his hands on Richie’s knees.

“Rich? What did she say?”

Richie’s tongue feels fat and dry in his mouth. The bees in his brain buzz louder. 

“She– uh. Eds–” Richie squeezes his eyes shut and swallows thickly. Breathes in through his nose and out his mouth, “Eddie called her yesterday to ask for a divorce.”

“Oh,” Bill’s mouth goes round and his brow crinkles, “Woah.”

Bill says something else, but it gets lost in all the static filling Richie’s ears. He feels as if someone’s dunked him underwater and held him there.

There are a million things that Richie wants to say. _She knew my name, Bill, Eddie mentioned me. She said that we were both sick, what do you think that means, Bill? I know what I think it means, but what do you think it means, Bill? Bill, why does this hurt so bad? Bill, why is my brain full of bees? They’re so fucking loud, Bill._

But everything gets all jumbled and clogged somewhere between his brain and his mouth, and all he can do is sit there dumbly as Bill frets over him. He focuses on the heat of Bill’s hands on his knees; He always ran warm. He counts each fingertip burning through his flannel pants. He counts ten fingertips and breathes in, he counts ten fingertips and breathes out. Eventually, he realizes that the two of them are breathing in sync, but who followed who is unclear to Richie.

“You back w-with me, man?”

Richie wants to crack a joke, call himself a space cadet or something, but his mind is too muddled to come up with anything coherent, let alone funny, so he just nods. After a moment, he takes Bill’s hands in his, giving them a squeeze, “Thanks, Big Bill.”

Bill shifts to sit beside Richie against the dresser and throws an arm around his shoulders. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, so Richie makes a big show of slumping down where Bill can reach. Bill snorts, “Fuck you, man. Why’re you so fucking lanky?”

_“Lanky?!_ Knock it off right now, with your fancy author words. Who the fuck says _lanky_ in real life? I’m not even lanky, anyway. I am tall and broad-shouldered, you short fuck.”

* * *

**Evvie** _@evelynw_  
ya know, all the richie tozier stuff is already so fucking bizarre, i didn’t even take into account the fact it includes the most random & strange group of vaguely famous people (1/)

**Evvie** _@evelynw_  
like obviously richie already has a very unique brand and is still a tad niche, but like ?? bill denbrough ?? the most rando horror author ??? if you’re not Into Horror he’s just one of those guys you Know Of bc of his notoriously bad endings (2/)

**Evvie** _@evelynw_  
beverly rogan, another name you’re sure you Heard somewhere, and you’re reminded she’s a designer and ur like “ya, probably. sounds right.” and then you realize you’ve heard her name thrown around in like .. Every single red carpet interview, the girl’s a total Boss (3/)

**Evvie** _@evelynw_  
this fucking architect dude ?? ben hanscom ? who i’d never heard of, but my dad heard me mention and was like “oh that dude ? love that dude, love his stuff, what’s up w him ?” and i was just like ????? but apparently on the scale of architects, he’s like ,, a dude people Know (4/)

**Evvie** _@evelynw_  
And just a bunch of other Random people thrown in ?? like, just for this being what it is, which appears to be a meta horror story that’s gonna use social media as its medium, it’s the most Bonkers combination of people. And tbh it makes me MORE intrigued. (5/)

**Evvie** _@evelynw_  
so like ,,,, @unofficaltrashmouth @billdenbrough @bevmarsh @hanscombuilds ,,, explain ??? (6/6)

**→ bucci bang** _@trekkin86_  
[Image: A looping gif of Freckle, saying, “What does it mean? What does it all mean?”]

**BuzzFeed ✔️** _@BuzzFeed_  
Strange combination of celebrities, assemble!  
[Link: Everything There Is To Know About Richie Tozier’s Losers Club]

**→ Evvie** _@evelynw_  
nice try buzzfuzz ,, i did it First and i did it Better. more succinctly. more directly. get on my level.

* * *

Beverly sits next to Ben on the couch in her room as her cell phone rings, but quickly stands back up to pace in the hopes of easing her nerves. He meets her eye and gives an encouraging nod.

She can’t help but feel a little cruel for what they’re doing to Myra and Patty.

They’d be better off not knowing, but now they don’t have a choice.

_"Hello?”_ The same voice from back at the Jade. Still hoarse from crying.

“Hi, is this Patty Uris?”

_”Yeah, that’s me.”_

“This is Beverly Marsh, we spoke on the phone the other day. I’m a friend of Stan’s from when we were kids.”

The silence in her ear rings loud. And then–

_“You were one of the other people. In that video.”_ It’s not accusatory, she speaks as if she’s simply stating facts, but Beverly’s stomach still twists with discomfort.

“You’ve seen it then?”

_“Yeah. Stan and I always used to watch Richie Tozier’s stuff,”_ her voice quiets a little bit, thoughtful, _“He never told me that he knew him.”_

Bev squeezes her eyes shut and bites the bullet. “He couldn’t remember. None of us could.”

She hears Patty take a deep, shuddering breath.

_“I was so confused at first. But… too much of it makes sense.”_

Beverly’s eyes fly open. _It does?_ she wonders. _Because I lived it and I still don’t think it makes sense._

Luckily, Patty continues before Bev has to say anything coherent.

_ “It felt like he was always scared. He had anxiety, but there was something else. Something that he was watching over his shoulder for, even if he didn’t realize it. And we never knew where all of his scars came from. On his hand. And his face.”_

“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this,” she says sincerely.

_“I’m just glad that I understand, however awful the explanation is.”_

Beverly huffs a surprised laugh. “Sorry, it’s just– That sounds like something Stan would say.”

Patty hums thoughtfully, _“It does, doesn’t it?”_

They steep in the silence for a moment, just remembering.

But Beverly has more bullets to bite.

“Richie didn’t mean to post that video, but it’s out there now and we have to do damage control. We thought you deserved the truth.”

_“What are you guys gonna do?”_

Bev rubs at the back of her neck, “We’re not quite sure. We think we want to try and play into the whole meta-horror story thing. Try and make it so real that it looks fake.”

Patty quickly deadpans, _“That’s so stupid, it just might work.”_

Beverly laughs again, a little brighter, “Okay, now you _really_ sound like Stan.”

Patty chuckles quietly in response, and then sniffles.

_“Thank you for calling me, for telling me the truth. I’d love to meet you all once everything blows over.”_

“We’d love that, Patty,” Beverly’s eyes prickle dangerously. Suddenly it feels like Stan isn’t as lost to them as he once was, not while Patty’s around. 

_“And, um– In the video–”_ Patty sighs, _“I’m sorry about your other friend. About Eddie.”_

Bev’s tears spill over. 

“Thank you, Patty.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all ! some updates since its been a hot second
> 
> im writing a [reddie amnesia fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393133/chapters/50964544) that's almost done and has a sequel on the way, so check that out if you like!
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://squaaash.tumblr.com) and [reblog these fics](https://squaaash.tumblr.com/post/189725247784/youd-almost-believe-it-chapter-4-joldiego) if you like!
> 
> as always, thank you for the kudos and comments. they warm my lil heart :)

**Author's Note:**

> if you like this, you can [reblog this fic](https://squaaash.tumblr.com/post/187937807099/youd-almost-believe-it-chapter-1-joldiego) from my tumblr, [squaaash](https://squaaash.tumblr.com)! and pls don't hesitate to talk to me about it, i would love to chat!  
comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


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